Part 34 (2/2)

I close my eyes, unable to bear it. My b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He mentioned my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. On television.

'When she goes out, she can play sophisticated, but on her bed ...'

I'm suddenly faint with fear.

No. No. Please not this. Please, please ...

'... she has a Barbie bedcover.'

A huge roar of laughter goes round the room, and I bury my face in my hands. I am beyond mortification. No-one was supposed to know about my Barbie bedcover. No-one.

'Is she s.e.xy?' the interviewer is asking, and my heart gives a huge jump. I stare at the screen, unable to breathe for apprehension. What's he going to say?

'She's very s.e.xual,' says Jack at once, and all eyes swivel towards me, agog. 'This is a modern girl who carries condoms in her purse.'

OK. Every time I think this can't get any worse, it does.

My mother is watching this. My mother.

'But maybe she hasn't reached her full potential ... maybe there's a side of her which has been frustrated ...'

I can't look at Connor. I can't look anywhere.

'Maybe she's willing to experiment ... maybe she's had I don't know a lesbian fantasy about her best friend.'

No! No! My entire body clenches in horror. I have a sudden image of Lissy watching the screen at home, wide-eyed, clasping a hand over her mouth. She'll know it was her. I will never be able to look her in the eye again.

'It was a dream, OK?' I manage desperately, as everyone gawps at me. 'Not a fantasy. They're different!'

I feel like throwing myself at the television. Draping my arms over it. Stopping him.

But it wouldn't do any good, would it? A million TVs are on, in a million homes. People, everywhere, are watching.

'She believes in love and romance. She believes her life is one day going to be transformed into something wonderful and exciting. She has hopes and fears and worries, just like anyone. Sometimes she feels frightened.' He pauses, and adds in a softer voice, 'Sometimes she feels unloved. Sometimes she feels she will never gain approval from those people who are most important to her.'

As I stare at Jack's warm, serious face on the screen, I feel my eyes stinging slightly.

'But she's brave and goodhearted and faces her life head on ...' He shakes his head dazedly and smiles at the interviewer. 'I'm ... I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened there. I guess I got a little carried away. Could we-' His voice is abruptly cut off by the interviewer.

Carried away.

He got a little carried away.

This is like saying Hitler was a tad aggressive.

'Jack Harper, many thanks for talking to us,' the interviewer starts saying. 'Next week, we'll be chatting to the charismatic king of motivational videos, Ernie Powers. Meanwhile, many thanks again to ...'

Everyone stares at the screen as she finishes her spiel and the programme's music starts. Then someone leans forward and switches the television off.

For a few seconds the entire room is silent. Everyone is gaping at me, as though they're expecting me to make a speech, or do a little dance or something. Some faces are sympathetic, some are curious, some are gleeful and some are just Jeez-am-I-glad-I'm-not-you.

Now I know exactly how zoo animals feel.

I am never visiting a zoo again.

'But ... but I don't understand,' comes a voice from across the room, and all the heads swivel avidly towards Connor, like at a tennis match. He's staring at me, his face red with confusion. 'How does Jack Harper know so much about you?'

Oh G.o.d. I know Connor got a really good degree from Manchester University and everything. But sometimes he is so slow on the uptake.

The heads have swivelled back towards me again.

'I ...' My whole body is p.r.i.c.kling with embarra.s.sment. 'Because we ... we ...'

I can't say it out loud. I just can't.

But I don't have to. Connor's face is slowly turning different colours.

'No,' he gulps, staring at me as though he's seen a ghost. And not just any old ghost. A really big ghost with clanky chains going 'Whoooarr!'

'No,' he says again. 'No. I don't believe it.'

'Connor-' says someone, putting a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs it off.

'Connor, I'm really sorry,' I say helplessly.

'You're joking!' exclaims some guy in the corner, who is obviously even slower than Connor, and has just had it spelled out to him, word for word. He looks up at me. 'So how long has this been going on?'

It's as if he opened the floodgates. Suddenly everyone in the entire room starts pitching questions at me. I can't hear myself think for the babble.

'Is that why he came to Britain? To see you?'

'Are you going to marry him?'

'You know, you don't look like weigh 135 pounds ...'

'Do you really have a Barbie bedspread?'

'So in the lesbian fantasy, was it just the two of you, or ...'

'Have you had s.e.x with Jack Harper at the office?'

'Is that why you dumped Connor?'

I can't cope with this. I have to get out of here. Now.

Without looking at anyone, I get to my feet and stumble out of the room. As I head down the corridor, I'm too dazed to think of anything other than I must get my bag and go. Now.

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